


Homecoming

by mysteriol



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Falling In Love, Final Fantasy VII Remake Spoilers, Fluff, Lime, Marriage, Post-Final Fantasy VII Remake, Romance, goddammit let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriol/pseuds/mysteriol
Summary: It’s been more than three hundred and sixty-five days, and Cloud still can’t believe that’s a whole year of normality with the woman he loves. [ Cloud x Aerith lime, set in the future of post-Remake ]“You’re making it hard for me to go back to sleep, Cloud.”“Like you said, we have the whole morning to sleep in.”
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55





	Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> a/n:
> 
> so…I’ve been binge-watching Remake Clerith videos lately again. Send help. Lots of it. This fic is hence a sappy product of all the feels in my warm, fuzzy heart. 
> 
> Fic is set post-Remake, in a future of what-if-Aerith-lives. And did I mention there’s lime? Does fanfiction even use this word anymore? Goes to show how much I’ve aged lol. 
> 
> Disclaimer: **no beta-read.** I’m THAT lazy, remember? 
> 
> Myst-san

Cloud wakes up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. He’s used to it by now – those nightmares plaguing his restless slumbers as the images repeat endlessly in his sleep. The deranged silver-haired man plunging his longsword into her stomach. Blood. A lot of it, spilling everywhere, trickling to his feet and staining his shoes.

He jolts from his bed with beads of perspiration clinging to his skin each time, his soundless screams dying in his throat. He’s one second away from drawing his buster sword by his bedside to an invisible enemy that exists no longer, before realization hits him like a bolt that –

Oh, oh. It’s all over.

That the threat’s long gone. And the world is saved, thanks to all of them. Thanks to her. And he’s alive. She’s alive. And a year’s gone by now (how has time flown by so quick when bliss is all he’s ever felt since she’s returned to his side?) and everything is okay.

_“You see? Everything’s going to be alright, Cloud.”_

He shuts his eyes, willing his fists to unclench. His breaths don’t come steady until his eyes dart feverishly to the lovely human by his side, in his bed, and then his Mako-infused blue eyes soften incredibly until it affects his ability to draw breath into his lungs.

Yes, he’s not alone, anymore.

And really, how is it possible for someone to look so endearingly beautiful in sleep?

He watches Aerith sleep – watches the way her chest rises and falls as her eyelids flutter occasionally to the rhythm of her peaceful dreams. The moonlight spilling through their bedroom cradles the rosiness of her cheeks, and he finds himself forever lost again.

It’s been more than three hundred and sixty-five days now, and Cloud can’t believe it for the life of him. That’s a whole year of normality with the one he loves to the ends of time, to the ends of the world. For a mercenary whose soul has been countlessly brought down to the pits of abysmal hell and back for the sake of the world, peace and boredom is something he is unaccustomed to.

But boring is good, they say. And Cloud never thinks he’ll desire that kind of serenity; to ever want to settle down with one human; to start a family; to be a good husband and eventually a good father…until now.

His mouth twitches. She’s always been a heavy sleeper, which is a good thing because Cloud still falls into the habit of waking up in his nightmares too often, and the last thing he wants is to rouse his tired wife whose muscles and bones are aching from a long day toiling at her local florist shop in the city of Edge.

 _Wife._ He can’t mull over that single word without his eyes acquiring a flicker of amazement, and utter affection. But it’s been the easiest decision for him – one that didn’t require even a nanosecond of hesitation when he had found Aerith awake at long last in the hospital bed after suffering that near physical stroke of death by the plunge of an abominable longsword – to be hit with the revelation that she’s _that_ person he wants to spend the rest of his life forever. Nobody else.

In that long arduous journey where it’s taken her weeks to get better, and months where he finds himself playing the role of her bodyguard again (this time without a price) watching over her protectively ensuring her welfare is the only thing that matters aside from him juggling his daily duties as a paid merc working odd jobs for the locals in Edge, Cloud doesn’t take long to discover his true feelings, and what is it that he _really_ wants.

And so he thanks his lucky stars that even after stumbling mindlessly through the phase of the most awkward, cringeworthy courtship any ordinary couple could have (not that he and Aerith are considered ordinary in the first place), she’s been forgiving enough to accept him even when he almost fucks it up at the most crucial moment and awkwardly pops the question on one bended knee in a pathetic attempt to propose. Never mind he’s prepared the script a thousand times with Cid, Barret and Vincent because he goes right off his lines in front of her, promptly forgets everything when he holds up the engagement ring, and then somehow ends up scraping his knee into a bloodied mess right in front of the woman he loves.

(Although, that is a memory saved for another time to reminisce.)

The present is all that matters. And so he’s fully alert now and awake, propped up on an elbow gazing intently into her lovely, upturned face. He’s astounded by the amount of love in his heart – so much so that he thinks it’s going to explode into flower bursts like the ones that fill the sky when he first saw her in that red fancy dress stealing his breath away back in Wall Market.

Three seconds. Three more long, unsteady breaths. In the interim of time where he wonders how in the world marriage still can affect his heart like that when it’s with the right person, he’s gone and traced his fingers down the contours of her porcelain cheeks, across the half-crescents of her eyelids. And then irresistible to his wife’s effect on him, he’s moved his ministrations lower until he’s drawing looping circles across the expanse of her bare shoulders, and down further along to feel the satin fabric of her sheer chemise between his fingertips.

Cloud doesn’t know another time when even such thin material can feel so cumbersome and a bother separating him and her.

And as his blood starts humming like it always does, starting slowly and building surely into a roaring fire, he blinks when a hand closes around his wrist to stop his movements.

Gorgeous doesn’t even quite describe her when he looks up into those boundless pools of green eyes.

“Hey,” her voice is quiet, reminding him of the lightest of spring mist in the air, “Can’t sleep?”

He lets slip a small smile, just because he knows it makes his wife even slightly happy just to see him express his emotions so easily. “Just admiring.”

She pretends to crinkle her nose, “Tsk. Doesn’t that ever bore you?”

“Nope,” he tells her frankly. Cloud knows he gets into way too much trouble for his blunt honesty too much for his own good, but that’s the way Aerith loves him best when he’s stripped down to his own soul and wears his heart on his sleeve.

“Such a sweet-talker,” her voice is light, teasing, and the smile on her face deepens as she inches closer towards him on the bed.

He responds immediately, his arms coming around her to bring her into the circle of his arms. “I always am,” he tells her, and can picture her smile already curving against his chest even when he can’t see her in the dimness of the moonlit night.

“You must want something from me when you’re being so sweet,” she murmurs into the nape of his neck, sleep still evident in her tone as she nuzzles her nose into his shoulder. She doesn’t tire ever of the way he’s so strong, yet so gentle around her at the same time. Cloud reminds Aerith most of firewood on a winter morning – everything beautiful, homely, and warm at once. And immensely more so, when he’s got his arms wrapped around her tiny waist.

“Hn,” he whispers back, and the single syllable sends shivers up her spine, “Wonder what gave it away.”

She draws breath, when she feels his fingers forming patterns along her spine. Cloud knows how much she likes that touch; how it makes her toes curl, which does now, as she nudges him lightly in the ribs.

“I was trying to get some sleep, you know,” she retorts, not angrily.

“We’ve got nothing on our agenda tomorrow, remember?” He reminds her, and can feel her impish smile all the way to his wobbly knees- which he thanks Gaia that he’s lying in bed so he doesn’t lose his foothold unsteadily. “It’s a Sunday. No flower delivery, no merc duties. For once.”

She suppresses a yawn. “Yep, for once.” She sends a poke into his chest. “I guess this means we have the morning to sleep in, huh.”

“Yep,” he agrees, and is stunned by the exquisite manner she’s pressed her mouth to his jaw. He realizes more time with her does nothing to lessen the impact of her unexpected gestures of affection – which she continues to shower on him incessantly and unabashedly. “What’s that for?” He asks, anyway.

“You should have woken me if you were having those dreams again,” she lets out a small sigh. She lifts a finger to wipe the single bead of perspiration that remains on his temple.

“It’s nothing,” a muscle clenches on his face, “It’s all in the past. Got to move forward, right?”

“Uh-huh, everything’s alright now,” she reassures him, one hand coming around his back to caress the skin under his shirt, sending his body pleasantly tingling at once, “You. And me. _Us_.”

“Mm,” he says nothing more. Doesn’t need to. He knows she understands him best as a man of few words, anyway. His actions speak a whole lot louder than his words, and so he simply lets his hands do the rest of the job. They’re roaming around the feminine curves of her hips, and when his restless fingers curve around her bottom, he sees only fire in his vision when she lets out a soft mewling sound into his ear.

“You’re making it hard for me to go back to sleep. You know that, right, Cloud?” She breathes, and her breaths come heavier as his hands slip beneath the ends of her chemise and moves purposefully between the cream of her thighs. He can never resist her, especially not at two in the morning when she is up by his side with disheveled bed hair wearing only a thin slip dress that he knows she does it with full intention to drive him crazy a hundred percent of the time.

“Like you said,” his voice comes out nearly in a low growl as his fingers find what they desire and his strength rips the lacey fabric beneath her dress away, “we have the whole morning to sleep in.”

“Hmm,” her lips part, filling with soft, quick gasps as his touch vanquishes every other thought in her mind. “As long as I’m sure I don’t have a delivery to make tomorrow…” Her words trail off into thin air, swiftly turning into pants when she feels his fingers diving deeper into her, and higher.

“What was it about a delivery?” He lowly teases the words into her ears.

“N-Nothing,” her eyes dilate, and she thinks how evil it is of him to do this delightful thing to her when it’s really in the middle of the night and they should be asleep instead.

She melts beneath his scorching torch and hungry hands, and so lost into him that she doesn’t even realize when is it that he’s rolled atop her, dipping his head to capture her mouth in his. His tongue cleverly devours every whimper that escapes her, and in the waging battle amongst white bedsheets where she’s lost her chemise and him his shirt in the time that passes, Cloud wonders how ever he’s gotten so lucky and thinks the heavens above must have spent a bit more time on him to have steered his universe to collide into hers.

He takes his time with her – as he usually does so he can memorize every line and inch of her into his memory. He explores her intoxicating scent, her sweet curves, her honeyed mouth she offers so invitingly to him…and he misses nothing in the wake of his touch, until his fingers stop short of grazing that old remnant of a faint scar across her abdomen.

He lifts his head in time to catch her eyes swirling with vivid depths. It’s an old memory now – one that serves nothing but to remind him of how close he’s gotten to losing her and losing his entire world at once. Even then, she still asks, anyway, knowing his answer. Perhaps, just to hear it from his mouth is the only medicine that soothes her. And he will say it a thousand times to her just so she knows. Again, and again.

“Do you mind?” There is an unreadable glint in her eyes as her finger touches _that_ barely visible wound – but it is there, nevertheless. And it is still but an ugly stitch that wrecks the otherwise silken expanse of her stomach.

“Never.” He answers without pausing for a fraction. He brings his forehead a mere inch away from the scar, and then reverently presses a long, lingering kiss to it. Without it, he will never know how much he’s been blind to what’s right before him all along. And now that time and Fate has come together to work hand in hand, he’s determined to never let her slip away from his arms again.

_This time, I’ll never let you go._

He’ll see to that.

“You ask me that all the time,” he shakes his head.

“Sorry,” she wants to say more, but he’s cut her off by raising his head above hers and sealing her mouth with a tender kiss.

“And I’ll tell you again a million times if I have to, Aerith,” he brushes her hair from her face, and looks squarely into her doubtful eyes, “ _Never_. I never mind.”

The smile that tilts the corner of her lips is genuine. It’s so bright, it lights up his entire galaxy like a trail blaze of stars in succession.

“Good,” she kisses his nose fondly.

“Any more silly questions?” He pretends to cock an eyebrow at her, noting the way the good humour is returning to her eyes, much to his relief.

“Only one, Mister,” she giggles, and Cloud thinks how on earth he’s been blessed to be able to wake up to the sounds of her laughter every morning.

“And?” The corner of his mouth twitches. Can he help it? Her smile holds the voltage of the cosmic universe.

“Will you kiss me senseless again?” She teases him, and he has just enough sanity and self-control left in him to breathe the next few words.

“Happy to oblige, Mam.”

Skin against skin, bedsheets pooling loosely around naked flesh, his mouth finds her once more in the dark of the velvety night scattered with stars above. It is this moment and everything else that comes together like magic with the woman he loves by his side, that Cloud realizes he doesn’t know another time when everything fits so right and _perfect_ , it feels like home.

-

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way than this:   
where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,   
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. _

  * _Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda_



**FIN**

* * *

a/n:

fingers crossed that CxA finally gets their happily ever after in Remake 2. Square, 23 years! Give Cloud and Aerith the happy ending they deserve! SOBS.

Now come scream at me how much you love them.

Myst-san


End file.
